


They Say That Jesus and Mental Health Are Just for Those Who Can Help Themselves

by feverbeats



Series: Back To School [1]
Category: Bandom RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look, Gee. Vampire superpowers."</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Say That Jesus and Mental Health Are Just for Those Who Can Help Themselves

**Author's Note:**

> The first story in an unfinished Buffy AU.

Gerard wakes up.

His ceiling spins over him for a good thirty seconds before resolving itself into the familiar cracked, white plaster. The world outside his window is instantly too loud, and his head throbs harshly.

Not a hangover, maybe. He doesn't remember getting (very) drunk last night. Maybe it's the fact that he was up till four A.M. and it's now somewhere around four P.M. Oh, this is so not ok.

Gerard is kind of an expert on being Not Ok, actually. At seventeen, coping doesn't look very good on him. He considers just crawling back under the blankets, but it's a Sunday, and he has homework to do.

He sits up, and his head throbs. Ok, fuck homework. Fuck dinner, too. He's going out. He does a quick sweep of the room, looking for clean clothes. No luck. Whatever. He topples out of bed, grabs his backpack (currently containing two notebooks of sketches, one math worksheet, a candy bar, and two packs of cigarettes), and tries to make the world stop swimming in front of him.

He heads down the hall and bangs on Mikey's door. "Mikeeeeey. C'mon, we're going out."

Mikey's music gets louder before it stops abruptly. Gerard rolls his eyes. Mikey still can't figure out how to use simple electronic devices. At least he's past the point of accidentally electrocuting himself. He opens his door a crack. "Did you tell Mom and Dad we're going out?"

Gerard shrugs.

"Yeah, 'k, hold on," Mikey says, and he slams the door again.

Gerard leans against the wall. Ugh. Life is fucking stupid. His head hurts and that stupid tight weight in his chest is worse today. Sometimes it's better. Sometimes not. He just wants to get some fresh air.

Five minutes later, he and Mikey are escaping down the steps, Mikey's backpack swinging over his skinny shoulders. Gerard glances over his shoulder at their house, which perches on a hill next to the road. It looks haunted. Gerard honestly thinks it might be.

"Where are we going?" Mikey asks after a minute.

Gerard lights a cigarette. "Cemetery."

Mikey rolls his eyes. "Y'know, Gee, of all the creepy hangouts . . ."

"No, I know," Gerard snaps. He doesn't feel good. His head hurts and he's hungry. Bad day, _bad fucking day_.

Mike sighs and starts calling the others on his cell.

Everyone's there when they arrive at the cemetery. Gerard smiles, and his face feels pained and stretched. But hey. He likes his friends.

Bob is the kind of big which tends to intimidate the right people, but he's also really cool. Gerard is always kind of scared that Bob will hit him, but that's ok.

Ray has awesome hair and he's pretty much Gerard's best friend forever. He can also be a fucking jerk when he feels like it.

And then there's Frankie. Gerard shakes his hair out of his face and looks at Frank. The thing is, when you're a teenager and an enormous loser and it's fall and high school sucks and life sucks and nothing works at all, sometimes you mess around with your friends. Gerard hasn't exactly been working up crush-feelings for Frank. Not exactly. Kissing awkwardly because no one else will look at you isn't the same as a relationship.

Frank collapses on the grass when he catches sight of them. "Hiiii."

Gerard shrugs at him.

"Oh," Ray says, "Someone's bitchy today."

"Every day," Bob says.

"You suck," Gerard says, and he sits down on a grave.

They dutifully Hang Out for a little while, Gerard passing a cigarette around and generally getting it passed right back to him untouched. He messes around with his sketchbook a little, but his heart isn't really in it. Maybe art isn't his thing. Maybe life isn't his thing. No one asks him what's wrong, because they've all figured out that this approach doesn't work.

After a while, Mikey says, "Uh, how long are we planning on being here?"

"Because it's a school night?" Ray asks. As though that's ever mattered.

"No-o," Mikey says thoughtfully. "Not that."

Frank shoots upright. "Whoa, whoa. Does Mikey have a _date_?"

Gerard tenses all over. He didn't think he'd have to deal with that right now. Maybe not ever. Mikey doesn't tend to date.

However, Mikey is bright red and glaring at Frank. "No," he says

"Which means yeah," Ray says. Gerard glares. The "sensible one" shouldn't have such silly hair.

Mikey hunches in on himself, long limbs bending ridiculously. "Leave me alone, ok? It's just a thing."

"Date," Bob says.

"Dude," Frank says, slapping Bob in the back of the head, "Use more syllables."

"Fine," Bob says smugly.

Gerard shakes his head. "Mikey, who is this . . . _thing_ with?"

Mikey goes even redder and mutters something.

_Oh no_, Gerard thinks. He decides to drop it.

Sadly, Frank never drops _anything_. "Who?" he says. "Tell us, or I'll go ballistic on yo' ass."

Mikey frowns and says in a tiny voice, "Pete Wentz."

No one actually says anything for a full thirty seconds. Because, because, Pete Wentz is an asshole. He plays football. He's short. He's bitchy. And he eats guys like Mikey for breakfast, along with his gatorade.

Mikey looks at them defensively. "I know, ok? He's nice to _me_. And I've gotta go." He stands up.

Gerard assumes that shock is the only thing stopping Frank from tackling Mikey. He tends to do shit like that. Instead, Frank stares at Mikey's retreating back, opening and closing his mouth.

"That's hot," Bob says, jerking his head toward Frank and rolling his eyes at Gerard.

"But whoa," Ray says. "Mikey's dating the enemy."

Bob leans against a grave. "Yeah, he's going to get himself killed. Someone should make sure Frank is ok."

Frank is making strangled noises. Gerard kicks him. "Wuh," Frank says finally. "Mikey _betrayed_ us."

"Oh, shut up," Bob says.

"I'm gonna kick his ass," Frank insists.

"Right," Ray says, "Because his ass is the only part of him you could reach."

Frank snarls at him.

Gerard doesn't say anything. Because honestly, what do you say when it turns out your little brother actually has a life? Gerard is tired of fucking around. He needs to get it together and be a role model. That's so easy to say, of course, but it's incredibly hard to do when you're strung out and fucked up and seventeen.

*

Gerard zones around school the next day. He draws monsters in the margins of all his notebooks. During his study hall, he sneaks into Frank's lunch period and steals him.

"Hey," Frank says as Gerard drags him along by the arm, "What's up?"

"Life sucks," Gerard says darkly, reapplying eyeliner with the other hand.

Frank sighs and doesn't tell Gerard that he brings it on himself. Gerard can see him wanting to say it, though. Instead, he says, "That's not exactly news. I was eating a peanut butter and pickle sandwich. What do you want?"

Gerard stops dragging Frank and leans against the wall. "I don't know." He wonders when he lost the ability to answer direct questions.

Frank stands on his tiptoes and stares at Gerard. "Ok. Want to make out in the janitor's closet?"

"Oh," Gerard says. "Ok." No one gives him enough credit for dealing with Frank, he decides.

The closet is cramped, and Frank keeps putting his elbow in Gerard's ribs. It's not an ideal place to make out, but nothing about this thing is ideal. Gerard doesn't know what to call it. It's not dating. It's just . . . making out. A lot.

Frank's breath is hot in Gerard's ear, and Gerard feels a headache starting to build behind his eyes. He's got to stop having actual feelings about Frank.

Frank licks his ear, and Gerard tells himself to focus. He ought to be having fun. He kisses Frank awkwardly. There's not enough room in here, and it's too hot, and this just doesn't feel right.

"Mmm," Frank says into Gerard's neck after a minute. "Let's meet in the cemetery tonight. I can arrange for the others to have homework tonight. But right now I have English."

Gerard almost smiles. "Yeah, ok."

Something always gets in the way of his actually getting together with Frankie, so it just figures that he runs into Bert McCracken on his way home (Mikey is staying after for supposedly Math Team). Bert McCracken is Gerard's . . . Well, friend isn't the right word. Neither is lover. Neither is enemy. He's just _Gerard's_. His friends hate Gerard and Gerard's friends hate him, but he and Gerard sometimes hang out in the most clingy way possible. He gets Gerard alcohol and stuff.

"Hey," Bert says. It looks like he didn't go to school, since he's headed the wrong direction.

"Hey," Gerard says carefully. He can't ever tell, with Bert. He could flip Gerard off, suck him off, or punch him out.

"Want to go to the movies?" he says.

Gerard is thrown. He fucking _forgets_. It's easy to forget, when Bert is drunk and angry, that he can be sweet and amazing and broken, too. Gerard shrugs and takes Bert's hand. "Ok."

That night, they smoke and make out in the parking lot of the movie theater. Bert's hands are under Gerard's hoodie, shoving him back against a stranger's car. He tastes like cigarettes and booze, but Gerard is used to the taste and smell by now. It smells more like home than his house ever has. And yes, Bert is a stupid fucker, but so is Gerard. It works. It's not like with Frank, where they're both constantly working on getting it to work. Gerard's sick of working. This is easy.

It hurts, though. Bert bites, kisses dirty when they make out. Whenever they fuck, Gerard tries to get drunk beforehand.

Finally, Gerard stumbles home to collapse on the floor of his room.

*

The next day, Frank isn't at school. Gerard knows he should have called Frank yesterday or something, but he can't always remember shit. Mikey is too busy flirting with Pete to give Gerard reproachful looks, but from the way Ray and Bob keep glaring, Frank told them about Gerard's screw-up.

Gerard tries to avoid them. Frank will survive being ditched once. Maybe he'll be around at the cemetery tonight.

As it turns out, Mikey has actually brought Pete Wentz _home with him_ after school, so Gerard has a valid excuse to be out of the house all evening. When it gets dark, he makes his way to the cemetery, wishing Frank and Mikey and everyone were easier to deal with. He even wishes he were easier to deal with.

He flicks the ash from his cigarette and glares at the tombstone across from the little grassy hillock where he's seated. It's not the grave of anyone he knows, but he's still inexpressibly offended by it. Actually, right now he's much more offended by life than by death.

After an increasingly cold hour and a half, Frank actually shows up. Gerard doesn't see him at first. He's standing just inside the cemetery gate, staring at Gerard, or maybe past him.

"Hey, Frank," Gerard says when he sees him. His voice sounds too loud in the cold air.

Frank crosses the graveyard, and Gerard tilts his head. There's something different about the way Frank is moving, but he can't put his finger on it. Frank comes to a stop in front of him, cocking one hip out.

"Hey, hey, Gee, Gee, I don't like your girlfriend," Frank says, gesturing rudely. Gerard can see a smirk hovering around his mouth.

Gerard shakes his head. "Look, I'm sorry about yesterday."

Frank ignores him. "Check it out: New gloves." He waves his hands in front of Gerard. He's wearing gloves with bones printed on the backs.

"Cool," Gerard says, feeling like he missed something.

Frank flashes him a full on smirk. "And check _this_ out." He takes a running start and does a _flip_ over a tombstone, flying through the air high enough that Gerard gasps. He lands. "Look, Gee. Vampire superpowers."

"Um," says Gerard. "Fuck."

Frank's teeth are suddenly like two perfect needles, but Gerard is scared of needles. He isn't scared of this. Then Frank is right next to Gerard, and his mouth ghosts over Gerard's neck. He whispers so quietly that Gerard isn't sure he really heard it, "Vampires will never hurt you."

Gerard feels the warmth of Frank's mouth on his neck mingling with the warmth of what he realizes is blood. He feels weak, drained, but there's also something else pulsing under his skin, something new. He never feels this way, and he wonders why the hell he can't be normal about this. It shouldn't feel this good to get _killed_.

*

"Hey," Ray says, "C'mon in."

Frank nods. "Thanks."

Ray offers him a seat without saying anything. Frank called him earlier that night saying _Jesus, fuck, turn the news on_, and Ray did, and he saw the report about some teenagers finding Gerard's body in the cemetery. Now, there isn't anything much to say.

"Is Mikey ok?" Ray asks, because you're supposed to ask stuff like that.

"No," Frank says.

"Yeah," Ray says, "Of course."

And whoa, is Frank inching closer to him? And looking at him kind of funny? He's heard that people sometimes react to death by wanting to have as much sex as possible, but this isn't a good idea.

Frank evidently disagrees. Ray never thought Frank would kiss like this, hot and angry and violent. He should spend less time thinking about how Frank kisses.

Frank fists his hands in Ray's hair and Ray finds himself laughing. Fuck, worse reaction ever. But at least he knows his hair is good for something. And Gerard, Gerard is never coming back. Never. He kisses Frank harder. Frank has somehow worked himself into Ray's lap, and Ray feels Frank's teeth brake the skin of his lip. They can't cope, Ray thinks to himself. They don't even know how.

Frank licks his way up to the corner of Ray's ear and then down Ray's throat and Ray wants to freak out. Then everything is painful and sudden and Ray tries to push Frank, but Frank has gotten freakishly strong, and–

And that's it, really.

*

Bob is curled up in bed with the headphones blasting Slipknot as loudly as possible. He saw the news report. This fucking sucks. There's no good way to deal. He thought about calling Frank, but he didn't want to bug him. He thought about calling Mikey, but what the hell do you say to someone who's just lost his big brother?

Maybe he should call Ray. He pulls the headphones off and dials the number. Fuck, this is going to be hard if Ray hasn't heard yet. After a second, someone answers. "Hello?"

"Hey, uh, Ray?"

"It's Frank."

Bob breathes again. "Oh. You hanging out over there?"

"Yeah."

"You two doing ok?"

There's a pause. "No. Not really."

Bob flinches at the tone of Frank's voice. "Hey, why don't you come over? I'll try to . . ." He doesn't know what the hell he could do to help, but you've got to try.

"Yeah," Frank says, "Ok." He sounds a little happier.

*

"Holy shit," Gerard says.

On the one hand, alive. On the other hand, oh fuck, inside a coffin. Gerard might be flipping out a little bit. He's had nightmares like this. They're not as searing and unbearable as the ones that are more like life, but they're still terrifying, and he was just _kidding_ about vampires being the best thing ever.

He raises a shaky hand to the inside of the coffin lid. Ok. He can just dig himself out. Yeah, right.

Surprisingly, though, it works. He feels stronger than he's supposed to, and the same core of heat is still streaming under his skin. Odd, since he's evidently dead.

It only takes him a few minutes for him to claw himself out and look around the cemetery. He tries not to stare too hard at his own grave. Instead, he stares intently at the one next to it. None of this makes sense. Maybe he's tripping. He knows the difference, though. Tripping usually involves even more bizarre shit, like Bert.

With a shock, he suddenly sees the name on the grave he's been staring at. But, Bob can't be–

"Hey," says a voice from behind him. "It took you forever to wake up. None of _us_ even had time to get buried."

"Fuck you," Gerard says shakily, turning to see Frank, Ray and Bob smiling at him

"Sorry," Ray says. "But you're up now."

Gerard wants throw up and die. "We're _vampires_?"

"Guess you got your wish," Bob says. His arm is around Frank.

Gerard blinks. "Uh. Ok. What about Mikey?" Because it matters. Because he's not sure what he wants the answer to be.

"We waited for you," Frank says.

*

It's not like Gerard can see or hear _too_ much better than he could before, but he finds himself noticing weird little things, like how old and flaking the paint on his house is, or how the lights flicker stupidly inside. He glares through the window and sees Mikey sitting on the couch staring at the TV. Gerard feels like doing whatever the vampire equivalent of slitting his wrists would be.

If he was depressed before, death isn't improving matters.

Frank knocks on the door. Gerard tunes in to the argument he's been having with Ray.

"I don't see why," Ray is saying. "It just seems fair that one of us should get to."

Frank shakes his head emphatically. "No way. I bit everyone else, I'm gonna bite him, too."

_Oh_, thinks Gerard. "No one," he says, "is going to touch my brother."

And then Mikey opens the door. "Oh my God," he says.

"_Mikey_," Gerard says. "Don't come outside. Don't invite us in." He feels like this is wrong, like he's not supposed to be doing this, but he'll be damned if he's going to let anyone kill his brother, even if Mikey _does_ have shitty taste in men.

"Stopit," Mikey says, shaking his head. "I don't like this. It's not–_Gerard_."

"Listen," Gerard says feverishly. He can feel the others staring at him. "We won't bite you unless you want us to. If you want to be with us. I mean, it's forever. Living forever. Not getting fucked up anymore. Mikey."

Gerard can see Mikey's brain working, working it out, and Mikey's always been kind of sneaky. Gerard's never really sure what he's up to in his brain. After a minute, Mikey says, "Ok." He steps outside.

"This is great! I was obviously going for the wrong Way before," Frank says, and he starts giggling like he's high.

Bob smacks him. "Shut up and turn him."

"I want to help," Gerard says, gripping Mikey's arm as hard as he can.

"Me too," Ray says.

"Well, you're not leaving me out," Bob says.

Mikey rolls his eyes. "I'm going to be the most turned vampire in the world."

*

After Mikey wakes up, they find an old house on the edge of town with a huge basement, and they actually manage to settle down there. Gerard still draws crappy picture in his sketchbook, but he doesn't draw vampires anymore. There wouldn't be any point.

They don't technically need a coffin, but Gerard thinks it's cool. Bob calls the funeral home and orders an extra large coffin they can all sleep in at once. "Death cannot stop true love," Bob says happily as he hangs up the phone.

"Or codependence," Ray says.

"The worst part of this," Frank says, "is that Mikey is going to find all kinds of new stupid things to do. He'll probably accidently wear silver crosses and stuff."

Mikey pouts. "I haven't even made _one_ stake!"

Gerard smiles. It's almost like being ok. "I wish I could have seen my own funeral," he says wistfully. "That would have been fucking cool."

*

It turns out, a week later, that being a vampire is kind of like being in high school. They're not the only vampire gang in town, and they're sure as hell not the toughest.

When they're hanging out in the cemetery, smoking and drawing and complaining–because you don't change good things–they run into six vampires in suits with a stylized _B_ emblazoned on the jacket pockets.

"Hey," one of the vampires says, "This is our turf now."

"Yeah?" Bob says, standing up threateningly. "Not last time I checked."

"And who the hell says 'turf,' anyway?" Gerard asks. But he has a bad feeling about this.

One of the vampires smiles. "I can see that we're going to have a problem."

Another vampire laughs. "Kick his ass, Ronnie."

Ronnie's smile grows wider. "I think I will."

Gerard's never been any good at defending himself.

*

Back at the house, Ray is putting an ice pack on a howling Frank's knee. Bob is swearing and nursing a bruise. Mikey is just sitting quietly.

Gerard coughs. He somehow got the worst of it. Maybe he shouldn't have made fun of how they talked, or maybe he's just always been a bully magnet. "We're vampires," he gasps between spasms of pain. "We're fucking _vampires_ and people still bully us. That's so fucked up. So."

"I know. It's ok," Ray says, but he looks just as upset as Gerard.

"Someone," Gerard breathes, "Someone is going to _kick their asses_."

Mikey perks up. "Yeah," he says, "I'll bet Pete will!"

"Huh?" Frank says, evidently forgetting he's in pain. "Why would Pete–"

Mikey shrugs. "I don't know, he said he was the vampire Slayer or something."


End file.
